Monday, August 18, 2008

I come home bearing no gifts. No San Diego fridge magnets, no miniature California license plate with your name on it to pimp out your banana seat bike. Not even an animated drawing of my head, big eyes and bigger cheeks, a cotton candy memory straight from the sweaty Santa Monica pier. Just one tired blog mama who had the best vacation ever.

Stories and photos to come tomorrow which I realize is the modern equivalent of me inviting you over to see slides of my family vacation, you all bored, squirmy and polite on my couch nursing a drink, me standing at the back of the room, clicker in hand. Click. And here we are at the beach. Click. And here we are at the other beach. See how the sand here is finer? Click. Oh look. Here we are at the far end of that beach. Click. Don’t worry. I’ll make the drinks strong and the slideshow short.

But really all I want to do today is my laundry. And thank all the lovely talented ladies who guest blogged for me. YOUARE ALLEVER SO AWESOME. Really. I owe you. You name it. Like, if you ever need money or maybe my womb to house your fetus, just ask. I won't eat soft cheeses or drink any wine, really. I owe you all big time.

Although I do want to correct one statement made in the comments section of Paige’s post. The crotchless Spanx suck. Literally. You think you’re in the clear as you crouch over the toilet to pee but no, not necessarily. That ace bandage masking as a crotchless panty girdle doesn’t, um, open wide enough, and if you’re not careful you will pee onto the sides and the fabric wicks it up, quick! Like that. And then you are forced to hang out the rest of the night with the octogenarians of the family so if anyone smells urine they will assume it is wafting from the nether region of the old ladies, not you, no, never you in that skintight dress printed with peacocks. I mean personally I’d rather smell like piss than have a gut, but that’s just me. I’m just letting you all know so you can make your own decision.

Okie dokie artichokie, ready spaghetti, let’s go. See ya later alligators, same bat time, same bat place with pics and stories galore. Missed you all fiercely and now I am off like a prom dress!

Not the yeast-infection-kind-of-burning, but the kind that makes you really hungry, like, you want to eat your hand off hungry.

The statement you made about offering your womb to your guest posters? And the part about abstaining from wine so as to not disturb or malform the growing fetus? And then... the part about the soft cheese???

Does it mean what I think it does? CAN PREGNANT WOMEN NOT EAT SOFT CHEESE?!?! Why have I not heard this before.

I am sitting here with my mouth wide open, and if someone doesn't stuff some soft cheese into it soon, I might faint.

Aw, thanks for missing me. I missed you all, too. For the first few days I tried to keep abreast of all the blogs--mine and others. But then I gave up when our hotel in Santa Monica charged $1,000 per hour for wireless.

And sadly no, you aren't supposed to eat soft cheeses when pregnant. No brie, no blue, no fun. No alcohol, no Afrin, no deli meats (what?!), no tea, no caffeine really, no raw cookie dough, no sushi, no real pain reliever, no cold medicine, no hair dye if you believe the purists, no inverted yoga poses, no tuna, at least not much, no no no. The list goes on and on 'til the break of dawn, or the break of your water. It's fun, oh so much fun.

Hey hey hey! Welcome back Sus! We tried our best to keep things tidy, though I can't promise that sweet little Jozette didn't ransack the liquor cabinet. Just sayin'.

I am going to want to talk to you "offline" about that baby housing business. If you're serious, I'd really like to take you up on your offer. I figure that saves me from having to wear those post-preggers Spanx and saturating myself with geriatric-like urine. We speakin' the same language, sister?

Oh yeah, I will never take you up on the surrogate thing (unless John Mayer wants to have kids with me, in which case I might because I could use that child support, yo), but I did appreciate the Spanx advice, so consider us even, girl!

Hi, I'm Susannah and I love shiny things, swimming, the smell of fresh cut grass, orange blossoms and horse shit. The feel of my children's eyelashes on my cheek is a live virus that grows in me, multiplies and sustains. I will never understand Amish Friendship Bread.

I write for love but money works, too. Email me for more info, or just to say hello.
susannah.ink@gmail.com